A Time to Heal
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Spouses and parents, warriors and kings. When the mighty begin to fall, will they cling to the past or seek out the present? Contains angst and slash. COMPLETE
1. Steel

A Time to Heal 

Part 1: Steel 

_Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. Written for the Dancing Dove's First SFF Challenge. ___

A late autumn sun shone through the heavy velvet draperies of the royal bedchamber, its brilliance giving the illusion of warmth. Entombed in down quilts and silk comforters, Queen Thayet the Peerless watched the rays of light enter her room, touching everything in it with gold, feigning interest. In truth she was only waiting, waiting for the fulfillment of a promise, as her ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the outer corridor, three empty rooms away. 

A lady's maid opened one wing of the chamber's great oaken doors and curtseyed. "Majesty, Lady Alanna of Pirate's Swoop." 

"Admit her," ordered Thayet. 

A woman entered the room, clothed in cotton and steel, ashen streaks in her fiery hair. "Good morning, Majesty," she said as she unclipped the scabbard of her sword and put it gently aside. 

"Good morning, Lady Alanna," replied the queen. 

The maid shut the door. 

"How are you feeling?" asked Alanna. "How did you sleep? Any fever, chills, dizziness, headaches?" 

Thayet shook her head. 

"Any pain or numbness in your leg?" 

"None." 

"Good," said Alanna briskly. "Get up." 

She pulled the covers off the queen and held both her hands as Thayet gingerly puled herself up to a sitting position, swung her single leg off the bed and, leaning much of her weight on the other woman's grip, stood up. Without warning Alanna let go of her right hand and Thayet teetered briefly, before reaching for a tall cane that rested against the wall. 

Alanna watched her patient adjust her bearing to accommodate the substitute limb. When she saw that she had found her balance, she released her other hand. Thayet perched, cane in hand, head held aloft. Poised and ready for anything, thought Alanna. As ever she was. It was almost enough to hide the chasm that stretched from the floor to where her silk breeches were rolled up and pinned with a garnet-studded brooch. 

The healer frowned quizzically. "Better than last week, but not good enough," she decreed, and walked a step backwards. "Come to me." 

Her movements were maddeningly slow and filled with effort. First she lifted the cane off the floor and, trying not to lose her balance, set it as far ahead of her as she dared. Then, holding it with white knuckles, she dragged her good leg an inch or so forward. Then she moved the cane ahead again, and let her body catch up with it. It seemed to take eternity. Maybe because every time she got near, Alanna took another step back. 

"Good," said the healer encouragingly. "Very good. You can go a little faster now. Come on." 

And so the queen, dragging her leg, walked in a snail's pace less than halfway across the royal bedchamber. She tried to hide the heaving of her ribs, ignore the sweat that broke on her face, but could not. "That's enough," decided Alanna. Picking out a chair, she set it before Thayet. "Sit." 

Her hand slid a breadth down the cane as she bended her one knee and carefully lowered herself onto the cushioned seat. Then she took the cane with both hands and set it on the floor at her foot, readily within reach. She heaved a huge sigh and rubbed her stump. Alanna kneeled beside her, looking worried. 

"Does it hurt?" 

Thayet shook her head. "No," she lied. 

The other woman watched her face intently. 

"It hurts that I'm reduced to this," confessed Thayet bitterly. "It hurts that I have to learn to walk and dress myself. That I must endure any number of treatments on a daily basis, lest my muscles decay and keep me from ever regaining my mobility. That this has been going on for nearly three months and I'm still not strong enough to leave my room. Worst of all it hurts that this ordeal should fall to me at a time when I was certain I had it all." 

Alanna nodded. 

"I feel like I've been punished," continued Thayet. "I was so sure of myself, so confident. Everything was going well. Before I came to Tortall, I had no chances. But since I met you, the world has opened up to me. When I first saw you I was sure that you had everything I wanted and would never have. But I found it, I found it! Imagine, to become a warrior at twenty five! 

"Everything was going so well. The Riders thrived, the children were happy. I was loved and cherished and needed. I was useful. And now… We went to the Healer's Ward, sometimes, to visit the injured there. I spoke with the invalid knights there, and thought I understood. But I never really feared this, because I was so certain it would never happen to me." 

"I know," said Alanna. "One never considers, when one is young… I dreamed of getting my shield, I never thought I'd be ready to lay it down. I never knew I could be too tired to lift a sword." 

"But you still heal," insisted Thayet. "Duke Baird says he doesn't know how he managed before you. Roald told me so." 

Alanna shrugged. "It feels different," she said. "I suppose it's nice to have the time for my Gift that I never had before, and it's good to live near the children, and old friend… Things change. I'm different now than I was before I came to live in Corus." 

"At least you still do something with your life," said Thayet. "Nothing is left of me that can be of any use." 

Alanna looked her over critically. "Thayet of Tortall, wallowing in self-pity?" she said. "I never thought I'd see the day." 

"I'm not -- " started Thayet defensively. Then she stopped and sighed. 

"Thayet of Tortall," said Alanna again. "The queen, the diplomat, the mother. The Peerless, undefeated by any ills that may befall her." 

"I can't find her anymore." She lowered her face into her hands. 

Alanna reached up and touched her shoulder, and Thayet's head dropped to rest on that hand, so warm and comforting. She stretched to stand on her knees, putting her arms around Thayet who reached out with her own arms around her. They stayed that way for a few peaceful moments before Alanna began to pull away. 

Silently, Thayet's fingers stroked her cheek. She leaned forward and touched her lips to Alanna's mouth and felt her return the kiss. When she let go, Alanna touched her fingertip to the corner of Thayet's eye, brushing away the seed of a tear that threatened to fall. She kissed her again, quickly, before helping her walk back to her bed. 

When the queen lay safely under wraps again, Alanna sat down on the bed beside her. 

"Will you come again tomorrow?" asked Thayet. 

"Yes," promised Alanna. She pressed her one last kiss and left. 

Thayet remained in the room where she was not, watching the sun's rays light the furniture and wondering if one of her children might come and visit her today. 


	2. Gold

A Time to Heal 

Part 2: Gold 

_Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. Written for the Dancing Dove's First SFF Challenge. ___

"You don't really like Corus, do you?" 

George shook his head. "No," he said. "I stopped lovin' my city a long, long time ago." 

The man came and sat by his side, on a bench in a rose garden tempered by twilight. "Time has changed you." 

"Good evenin' to you, too, m'liege," replied George, shrugging off the comment. 

"A very good evening to the king's spymaster," said Jonathan with a familiar smile. "How go things down south by the seashore?" 

"I wouldn' be here if I was worried," answered George, "not even to visit my lov'ly wife." 

"How go things with your lovely wife?" 

He sighed. "Not as well as she'd have people believe. Not as well as she believes herself." 

Jon raised an eyebrow. "I know it's hard on you two, with her living in the city and you down at the Swoop, but…" 

"But what?" asked George quietly. "But my beloved wife would be bored outta her mind if she stayed at the Swoop for longer than two months? But she's gotten so used to wanderin', she can't remember how to stay still? But she stays in Corus to nag her children an' pester them to be more like her?" 

"It's not all that bad, is it?" asked Jon, horrified. 

"Aly an' Thom both 'fess they get grief from her," said George. "So do I." 

Jonathan just looked shocked. 

"But I prefer my little cove o' home on the beach," he continued. "Let her keep her palace and her nobles and her healers. I've seen enough of this city, and grown weary of it." 

"Why are you here?" 

"Must see children," said George. "Must see parents. And wife, too. And especially old friends." 

Jon smiled again. 

"How is Thayet?" asked George patiently. 

"Ill," said the king. "And bitter." 

"Got no time for you?" An old friend, with sympathy always ready. 

"She has all the time in the world," said Jonathan. "She just doesn't want to see me." 

"Two deposed kings with queens who don't need 'em," remarked George cheerfully. 

"Speak for yourself," growled Jon. "I'm far from deposed." 

"Let Roald take over your affairs," George retorted. "set yerself free." 

"I can't," said the other simply. "I've been a prisoner of this realm for far too long to let my love be. How long has it been since I've known freedom? Would I dare try it again, when I've no clue if I could survive without my chains?" 

"I did." 

"And?" His voice was almost stern. "George, look where it got you! Look at the people around us! Every one of them complains of having no free time, of being a slave to duty, of living on the rim of death. Yet Raoul refuses to rescind his command, Daine and Numair both labor as tirelessly as ever, and even your Alanna would have gone on fighting, if her body had allowed her. Even in this so-called retirement, she imitates her life as a knight. She wears a sword, still, George!" 

"I know," said George softly. "Our bonds are our heritage. We hold this slavery close to our heart to keep it warm, and clutch it ever tighter the older we grow. I don' fear death, Jonathan, nor tiredness." 

"Then you're far braver than most those I know," said Jon. 

George shook his head. 

"What?" 

"They cling to the past, our friends, even when it's still the present. Numair will cast you spells from his deathbed, y'know. And your son will have to pry that crown from your cold, dead fingers." 

Jon shuddered, not liking how truly that image struck him. 

"Me, I don' fear these changes. I fear loneliness." 

"When have you ever been lonely?" asked Jon, disbelieving. 

"Never!" said George sharply. "I let go of my loves when I find me new ones. My past passes when I find me a present I can live in." 

"Your past is Alanna," said Jonathan. "Both our pasts, really." 

George said nothing, but shifted away on the bench they shared. The last of the sunset was winking out over the cityscape horizon, leaving the garden a maze of trickling shadows. He felt the chill grow in the air as he watched the flowers close for the night, always knowing that they would open again, but only after the long and dark ordeal of night. 

Behind him was a house, and in the house were rooms. Each room was potential itself: the furniture and people in it, candles and fire. Some were locked and dusty expanses, where everything was veiled in a white sheet, protected from time. Most not even he knew enough to tell what he would find if he opened their doors. Some, though, he knew. Some rooms lay down corridors he'd sworn he'd never walk again. 

"What are you thinking of?" 

"My present. Do ye ever think of yours?" 

"Every day." 

"Yet ye never change it. Do you, m'liege?" 

"Don't call me that. You were a king, once, too." 

"I changed my life, Jonathan. That king is dead." 

"How did you do it?" 

George sighed and moved closer to him. "It's easy," he said. "Ye go and decide what ye want, and then ye go out and get it." 

"That's not easy!" protested Jon. 

"Why not?" demanded George, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "Ye used to do it all the time. Prince Jon did it all the time. He saw what he wanted and then took it, no needless word said." A ghost lay between them, an invisible barrier that neither evoked by name. 

"Kings don't always get what they want, George, you know that. You were a king, once, too." 

George leveled his eyes at him, clear and simple. "It's never too late to change your life, Jonathan," he said. 

He just turned away to look at the gloom before him. 

The garden was dark and bare of joy, holding only the memory of what it looked like when the sun was still shining. Only hours ago it was full of beauty and life, but now, the very things he'd thought were so lovely held out their thorny arms, ready to trip and uproot him. How quickly time changes all, he thought. 

And behind him was a house full of old whispers and new emptiness. In it every hearth must be cold stone and ash, every candle long-since flickered out. Not a soul stirred in that house. No one laughed and cried and loved in there. How long had it been since it had seen the passionate heartbreak of youth and liveliness? Tonight it saw the broken heartlessness of a man who woke each morning and saw nothing in the day before him, did nothing but sit and wait to die. 

 "Always given to the same notions of finality," remarked George softly. 

"And what are those, then?" asked Jon, more than a little irritated. 

"That ye have no future." George was silent for a time. "If ye really believe it, Jon, why'd ye come here tonight?" 

He had no answer. 

George got up, and taking the other man by the hand pulled him, too, to his feet. They stood there on the balcony, between the dark garden and the dark house, close together in the gloom. 

"Choose, Jon," George murmured in his ear. "Choose now: to walk out my garden gate and stay in the past, or to come into the house and make yerself a future." 

"Choose?" asked Jon. He was too afraid to choose, too afraid to lose. 

George saw the indecision in his face and, not waiting for an answer, pulled away and began walking to the house. He trailed his arm away slowly, and their hands brushed and parted. And as Jon felt that last touch flit away he bit his lip, turned full circle and ran to catch up with George. "I choose you," he said.  


End file.
